Running
by Titan5
Summary: John and Ronon are on the run from the Wraith. Written for LJ SGA Gen Ficathon.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Running

**Author: **Titan5

**Summary: **Ronon and John are on the run from the Wraith.

**Notes: **Set early in season four. Many thanks to sharpes hussy for her beta work. I did some tinkering after her suggestions, so all mistakes are mine. This was written for the SGA Gen Ficathon on LJ in response to the prompt _the best-laid plans._

**Running - Part 1**

John suppressed a yawn, glancing around to watch Ronon's eyes drift closed. Teyla, sitting beside him, didn't look much more awake. Massaging the back of his neck, he rolled his shoulders and turned his head to entertain himself by looking at Rodney on his other side. His eyes were closed, his chin resting on his chest. Grinning, John nudged the scientist lightly in the ribcage, startling him awake almost instantly. A moment of panic quickly gave way to a scowl, making John's smile widen.

They had been with the Balterians all afternoon, hopeful for a trade agreement that would net them some of the village's fresh fruit and vegetables. The people had been friendly, eager to entertain their visitors and to feed them samples of their offerings. John was pretty sure Ronon and Rodney had eaten their way through half the village storehouse, all in the name of sampling the wares. But it was late and they were tired and John was still trying to think of a way to end the festivities without insulting anyone. It would be nice to just return to Atlantis with a friendly trade agreement and no hostilities for once. Even Lorne had started making subtle, yet snide remarks about his team's ability to get into trouble lately.

There was a pause in the informal speech being given by Akil, the rather heavy leader of the village. He was short, with a round face and a nervous smile that made John keep looking over his shoulder. He'd noticed Ronon doing much the same thing all day. Everyone else seemed at ease, so John hoped the man was just uncomfortable with the whole leadership thing in general. John stood when the man approached him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"This has been really great, Akil, but we need to be going. It's late and we need to report back to our leader about the trade agreement."

Akil's eyes darted around and he laughed nervously. "Nonsense, you must stay a little longer. Perhaps some more anasthus to drink," he insisted, motioning toward a girl with a pitcher.

"Um, Colonel," said Rodney, hesitating for a moment. "I've gotta go . . .uh, you know." He motioned abstractly toward the door.

"Oh, right, okay," John said, nodding. The Balterians had the equivalent of outhouses scattered throughout the village, one being just outside the community building they were now in.

Reddening slightly, Rodney nodded toward their host and hurried out of the room. John had a hard time not laughing at him. "All that juice he drank," he explained to Akil, who just smiled as he followed Rodney out with his eyes.

"Excuse me, Colonel Sheppard, I must check on something," Akil said, giving a small bow before disappearing to talk to a small group of frowning men in the corner. John was beginning to get an uneasy feeling about the strange glances his team was getting from the native people of the planet.

"Something's up," whispered Ronon over his shoulder, even as he carefully scanned the room.

"I'm getting that same bad vibe," John said softly, all the while continuing to smile and nod at the Balterians.

Edging closer to them, Teyla tilted her head a little toward John. "I also feel something is not right. Perhaps we should take our leave."

"My thoughts exactly," replied John.

Without words, or even conscious thought, they aligned themselves in a loose circle with their backs together as they all stood in the center of the room, feeling very defensive in the growing quiet. The outer door suddenly exploded open and Rodney stood panting just inside the room until he found them with his eyes. Rushing over with the room full of people staring, he leaned over and sprayed spit all over John with his frightening revelation.

"We've got to leave this place _now. _These people are Wraith worshippers and they're waiting on them to come pick us up."

John's head wasn't the only one on the team that whipped around to stare at the physicist. "What? Are you sure?"

"The guy watching for them reported to chief sheriff Hylas, or whatever his title is, just outside the . . . you know, that place I went."

"Toilet?" suggested Ronon.

Ignoring them, John glanced over to see Akil watching them closely. "Okay, we'd better get out of here fast then. I think Akil is suspicious." They began slowly moving toward the entrance as a group and they were almost there when Akil confronted them.

"Colonel Sheppard, where are you going?"

"Back home," John said, his voice neutral, but his eyes hard and dark.

"You really need to stay."

"No, we really don't," John replied. He motioned for Teyla and Rodney to move outside, which they did, while he and Ronon kept an eye on the people in the room. "Thank you for your hospitality, but we've made a recent discovery that indicates we need to leave."

Akil's smile completely disappeared. "That is ashamed, Colonel. We have invited friends to have dinner with you."

"I think you mean they plan on having _us_ for dinner," corrected Ronon.

John and Ronon quickly drew their weapons as they backed out the door. "We've developed this aversion to being the main course, so you'll excuse us if we don't stay," said John. As he and Ronon cleared the door, Ronon jammed it shut while John yelled to Teyla. "Get Rodney to the gate. We'll be right behind you."

He could barely hear her affirmation or Rodney's complaints over the pounding on the doors of the building. He and Ronon were backing away from the structure with their weapons up and ready when the barrage of arrows began raining down on them. Crap, he'd forgotten about the outside guards and there were apparently quite a few of them. He heard Rodney yelp just as he and Ronon let loose with a volley of fire, temporarily ending the onslaught of arrows.

"Rodney," he called as he and Ronon ran to catch up with the other members of the team, now sitting just inside the edge of the surrounding forest. Rodney had leaned back against this elbows as Teyla examined an arrow that had gone all the way through the meaty part of his calf. She looked up at John, her expression serious.

"I do not believe it struck the bone," she reported.

"I can pull it out," volunteered Ronon.

Sighing, John shook his head. "No, Carson went over the whole _not removing embedded structures_ _in the field_ thing with you after the incident on the prison island."

"He can't run like that and we need to be running," said Ronon firmly.

"Yeah, I know," admitted John. He looked at the arrow a moment and then kneeled down beside Rodney's leg. Rodney blanched.

"Wait, you just said we shouldn't remove it." Rodney's voice was nearly an octave higher than normal.

"I'm not," said John. "I'm going to break part of it off and then we'll secure it as best we can so you can be mobile."

"I can't run on this leg," said Rodney incredulously.

"You could wait on the Wraith. I'm sure they would give you a ride," pointed out Ronon.

"Oh, right. Running it is. Okay, just . . . hurry up and do it." Rodney turned his face away and John quickly broke most of the exposed part of the arrow off. As Teyla began wrapping a field bandage around the remaining arrow and wound, Ronon began firing at the people now exiting the community building. John stood and joined him in keeping the natives at bay.

"You need to hurry!" John yelled, moving forward a step to improve his line of sight. He could hear Rodney groaning, but couldn't risk taking his eyes off the angry people trying to advance on their position.

"We are ready," Teyla called.

"Take Rodney and go! We'll try to keep them busy and give you a head start." He knew Rodney would be moving slowly, in spite of the motivation of impending death by Wraith if he didn't get to the gate quickly enough.

"We will radio you when we are there," she said. John was peripherally aware of his teammates moving off into the forest as he and Ronon picked off villagers for a while. Eventually, the return fire of arrows stopped and they took the opportunity to run deeper into the forest. They ran for a while in silence before stopping to listen for anyone following.

"It's going to take them a while to make their way around to the gate," said Ronon, voicing John's thoughts. They had been at the far side of the village and were presently heading away from the gate. Teyla would have to swing an injured and complaining McKay in a wide arc to get back on track to the stargate through dark, unfamiliar territory.

"We need to distract these guys if they're going to have a chance of making it," said John. He looked up at Ronon, who was barely breathing hard.

"Split up?"

John nodded. "That's what I was thinking. You need to leave a wide trail for a while so they'll follow us and not them."

Ronon looked down the pathway of broken branches. "It's going to be hard to make a wider path than McKay."

Grinning, John had to agree. McKay was nothing if not loud, even when he wasn't around. "Let's just embellish on his trail and make it lead away."

Ronon returned his grin, looking a little too excited about the coming game of hide-and-seek. "I'll go left, you go right."

"Radio when you think you've lost them. Two clicks in case I've still got natives or Wraith on my tail." They would lead their pursuers on a merry goose chase until they thought Rodney and Teyla were far enough ahead and then let their trail fade away to nothing.

Nodding, he and Ronon went to work, trying to take McKay's messy signs and turn them into a forked trail that would lead anyone following towards them and not their teammates. Fifteen minutes later, they heard the telltale signs of a large group of people moving through the forest. They were making no attempt to be quiet, so they were either very confident or very stupid. John was hoping for stupid.

"Okay, this will have to be good enough. Good luck," said John.

"Don't need luck," retorted Ronon with that same feral grin.

Frowning a bit, John gave a single nod. "Okay, whatever. Just don't get yourself captured or killed. We'll meet later."

"You either," Ronon said gruffly before turning down the wide pathway he'd made. John sighed and headed down his own pathway, jogging away from the approaching trouble. This was probably going to be a long night.

oOo

Four hours later, John knew for sure it would be a long night. He'd had to dodge natives three times, once getting into fistfight. He was avoiding using his gun because it would give away his position to the others. They had apparently split up into small groups, which made John happy. He and Ronon had planned to make their escape route obvious, but multi-directional and confusing to keep them guessing as to which was the real path. It was hard to keep that going and still stay ahead of the pack, and he was about to the point he wouldn't have time to continue his ruse.

Add to that the fact that he was pretty sure he'd heard darts earlier, but his line of sight had been blocked by the canopy. That meant if there weren't Wraith already in the woods searching for them, there would be soon. He jumped when his radio clicked twice.

"Sheppard," he whispered.

"Colonel, it is Teyla." Her voice was also whispered, so soft he could barely hear her.

"Where are you?" he asked, his gut knotted with worry.

"We have made it to the gate, but there are two Wraith guarding it. I will have to remove them in order to get Rodney through. What of you and Ronon?"

"We split up to try and lure the bad guys away, give you more of a chance to make it to the gate."

"You did well. We did not encounter anyone until we reached the gate. I must go, they are coming this way," she hissed and then the line was dead. John was frantic, but there was nothing he could do. He didn't dare call her back and chance giving her away. He stood where he was for several minutes, hoping she'd call back and tell him they were going through the gate, but realistically, he knew she might not have the chance. He finally gave up and started moving again when it began to drizzle.

An hour later he was soaked and shivering. Even though the rain was a slow one, it was constant, and the tree limbs constantly brushing up against him were like dozens of small waterfalls. A sudden sneeze caught him completely off-guard. With no chance to stifle it, the sound almost seemed to echo around him, screaming his position. He froze.

For a moment, all he could hear was the soft patter of the rain on the leaves of the canopy. It would have been relaxing under different circumstances, but now it was just distracting and annoying. Crunch. John's head snapped around at the sound of a dead branches being crushed under the foot of a pursuer. Crouching low, he inched toward a cluster of bushes that might provide better cover.

The sensation of movement from over his right shoulder sent him whirling around just in time to partially block the oncoming blow from one of the villagers. The man had a good two inches on him, but John had the benefit of his military training and experience. Recovering quickly, he was able to trade blow for blow with the attacker for several moments. Then Murphy decided to put in an appearance, since the day had gone so well until now, and his foot slipped in the mud, sending him down hard on his backside.

The native was on him in a second, knocking the P90 away as John tried to bring it up. With his left arm up blocking a blow, John let his right drop to the butt of his sidearm. The man sitting astraddle his stomach was apparently aware of what he was doing, because he buried a large knife he'd pulled from the sheath at his belt deep into John's upper arm. The pilot couldn't even scream, feeling like the breath had been yanked from his lungs. The world spun and for a brief moment, he was completely disoriented and consumed with the pain. A jerk on his arm brought him back with startling clarity. The tip of the knife was stuck in the dirt below him and the native was trying to yank the thing out. It pulled free with sickening slicing motion and this time John managed a guttural cry.

Anger and adrenalin flowed through him, dulling the fire in his bicep. His left hand closed around a stick that was at least two inches in diameter and he swung it up against the attacker's head with all the force he could muster. It took several seconds of panting and convulsive swallowing before his head cleared enough for him to try sitting up. The native who had attacked him lay unconscious, sprawled in the dead leaves beside him. John reached over to check for a pulse. There was one, but it seemed weak, and judging by the pool of blood underneath the man's head, he wasn't sure there would be one for long.

There was nothing he could do for the attacker and if he was honest, there wasn't much he wanted to do. His arm was screaming at him and the most he could do with it was twitch his fingers. Digging around in his vest, he pulled out a field bandage and tied it around the bleeding wound as tightly as he could. There was both an entrance and exit wound, so getting the thick part to cover both with the use of one hand was an exercise in the almost impossible, but he finally managed. Using a tree as support while he got to his feet, he stood leaning against it for several moments, listening to the fall of the rain and wishing he was in a warm, dry bed with some good drugs.

John took one last look at his attacker before he trudged off through the woods. The knife that inflicted his injury lay beside the man, the blade now almost washed clean of his blood. He picked it up and wiped the remaining red on the former owner's pants. "Guess this is mine now," he grumbled before staggering through the trees, trying not to make too much noise.

oOo

The gray light of dawn was just barely becoming perceptible as Ronon stood with his back pressed to the trunk of the tree. Concentrating on the sounds around him, he was unaware of the rough bark pressing into the skin of neck. The rain had finally stopped a while ago, but small cascades of water were occasionally dislodged from above by the slight breeze that had begun stirring. Ronon was now sure that the sounds he heard were not those produced by the forest, but those of approaching footsteps. When he was certain of his target's location, he whipped around the tree, his gun extended in front of him, his finger on the trigger.

As his arm complete its extension, the barrel of a gun appeared inches from Ronon's face. In his hesitation, he recognized the face and the hard look of the man in front of him.

"Sheppard," he growled, irritated he'd almost shot the pilot, relieved to see he'd survived the night.

His expression easing as he dropped his gun, John sighed. "Ronon."

The soldier before him was worn and tired and very wet. Ronon stepped back as he also dropped his gun, seeking an explanation to the haggard appearance. It was then he noticed that his commanding officer was gripping the gun in his left hand because the right arm dangled uselessly beside his torso. A blood soaked bandage was tied around John's upper arm and pain lines radiated out from his eyes and across his brow.

"What happened?" he asked succinctly.

"Native with a big knife and a nasty attitude," John replied. He reached awkwardly across to put his gun back in the holster and then pulled a large knife from where he had wedged it in one of the vest pockets. Ronon hadn't even noticed the dark, carved handle sticking out at an odd angle. "So, what do you think?" John asked as he handed over the knife.

Ronon studied it, hefting it back and forth as he tested the weight and balance. "Not bad. You should keep it."

"Oh, I plan to," John replied darkly, glancing down at the red bandage. "It's nice and sharp. I can testify to that."

Ronon looked again to his comrade's arm as he returned the knife. "We need to change that."

"Can't. I've already changed it once and that was my last field bandage." John looked Ronon over, eyeing his coat pockets. "Unless you happened to have one stashed somewhere?"

"Nope," Ronon replied. Sheppard had never insisted that Ronon wear a uniform or tac vest and the Satedan now wondered if he was regretting that decision. Sheppard just shrugged and looked around the forest.

"I haven't seen anyone for a while, but I heard darts earlier. I'm guessing we have Wraith on the ground who might decide to come after us."

"They will," said Ronon. The villagers would have had to explain why their offering wasn't there to be offered and the Wraith would be beyond angry. He doubted the people of the village would survive the encounter, but he planned on making sure he and Sheppard did. "We need to get moving."

John nodded tiredly. "Right."

Ronon watched the sluggish movements of his friend, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. From his position behind him, he began to notice that his CO was shivering. The morning air was cool and damp and Sheppard's clothes were soaked from spending the night in the rain. Ronon's coat had kept most of the rain off his clothing and skin and he'd had more of problem trying not to overheat with his continued movement.

A diluted stream of blood trickled down Sheppard's right hand, something he seemed completely unaware of. Beginning to process the blood loss his friend must have suffered, Ronon coupled that with a sleepless night spent in a cold rain. Sheppard needed to get warm and dry and they needed to make sure the bleeding had stopped or they soon would be dealing with shock. He was about to suggest they seek shelter somewhere when a stunner blast lit up the tree right beside the colonel's head with blue. It looked like the rest stop would have to wait.

oOo

Rodney stood nervously as they watched the MALP go through the portal on its way to the planet where Sheppard and Ronon were hopefully still running for their lives. They had sent one through shortly after he and Teyla had returned to Atlantis the night before, only to find the place swarming with Wraith. Carter had insisted they wait awhile, hoping the Wraith would leave the planet, or at least the vicinity of the gate so they'd have a chance to get through.

"I promise, Rodney, we'll find a way to go after them," said Sam, coming up to stand beside him. She looked down at his leg and then back up at his face. "Should you be on that leg?"

"No, not really," he replied, shifting his weight slightly against the crutch.

"You should at least sit down," she offered.

"Too nervous," he snapped. He wasn't mad at her. He knew she had made the right call when she refused to let them go through. They wouldn't have made it ten meters. It was just hard to sit and wait when you knew your friends were in grave danger, especially when they put themselves there to save you.

"The MALP is through and we're receiving a signal," reported Chuck as he watched the controls before him.

Rodney moved a step closer to Sam so he could have a better view of the monitor. As the picture came on, the scenery around the gate began to stroll by, complete with several Wraith, their attention locked on the technology. A male looked right into the camera before laughing (or maybe that was more of a roar) and firing at point blank range.

"There goes another one," said Chuck with an exaggerated sigh.

"They're so dead," Rodney muttered.

"Ronon and John will make it." Teyla's soft voice from behind him startled McKay, causing him to lose his balance. Sam grabbed one arm while Teyla stepped up to grab the other, steadying him before he fell, but not before he shifted his weight to his injured leg. "I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you," she apologized.

"Sit down, Rodney," insisted Sam at the moan escaping from his lips. He let them guide him to an open chair and plopped heavily down, his leg burning and throbbing where the arrow had been removed.

"No, it's okay," he breathed out when he was able. "I just didn't realize you were there. You saw, then."

Teyla nodded. "I saw. I know it looks bad, but Ronon survived by evading the Wraith for seven years. This time he has John with him. They will be fine."

"Yeah, well, pardon me if I'm not so optimistic. As you just said, the colonel is with him and that brings a whole new batch of trouble to the situation. And he was running from one or two Wraith at a time, not a whole battalion, or whatever kind of military groups they have. Let's not forget the angry villagers that shot me as we were trying to leave. I somehow doubt they've gotten more friendly since the Wraith arrived."

"They are probably dead," Teyla said coldly, sending a shiver down Rodney's spine. "When the Wraith arrive to find their offering gone, they will not be merciful."

"They did that to themselves," said Sam.

"I agree," said Teyla with a brief nod. "What are we to do? Although I think John and Ronon can keep hidden for a time, they will not be able to do so forever."

"We have to go after them," said Rodney with an urgency he felt down to his core.

"We're going to have to do something very hard. We're going to have to wait."

"Wait?" asked Rodney, narrowing his eyes at Sam. "Wait for how long?"

Sam looked at Teyla. "If they don't find Ronon and John, will they eventually give up?"

The Athosian stared across the room for several seconds, obviously processing her answer. "Eventually, they will have to. If they believe John and Ronon to still be there, evading them, they will leave a few drones behind to catch them at the gate. If they become convinced they are no longer on the planet or dead, they will all leave."

"How long before they leave if they think they're still out there?"

Sighing, Teyla shrugged her shoulders, a habit she had picked up from her Earth friends. "It is hard to say. A lot depends on the particular hive seeking them and if they know who they are hunting. Most likely they will search for three to four days."

Nodding, Sam rubbed her chin with her index finger. "Okay, first we have to stop sending MALPs through because that shows our interest. As long as we keep doing that, they'll know John and Ronon are there. If we stop checking, it will look like we've lost interest and maybe they'll think we have them back."

"Right," Rodney said, snapping his fingers. "They have to know that some of us got through the gate. Maybe they'll think we all did and we were just checking to see if they'd gone."

"I am not sure that will work," Teyla said reluctantly.

"Only choice we have," said Sam. "There are too many to go through now and the i_Daedalus/i_ won't be here for another week. We wait."

"I really hate this," said Rodney, staring down at the floor and feeling totally useless.

"I know," said Sam. "We all do."

oOo

John felt the sharp pain in his right ankle about the same time he was aware of it twisting underneath him. His staggering gait, brought on by exhaustion and blood loss, combined with the uneven ground to send him crashing into the wet underbrush. He quite literally saw stars, or at least some bright flashing lights, as his injured arm struck the ground underneath the weight of the rest of his torso. Being unable to lift the appendage to break his fall really sucked big time. Go figure.

"Sheppard!"

The hissed whisper cut through the haze, forcing John to focus on clearing his head quickly. _Oh yeah, currently being chased by Wraith. _"I'm 'kay," he said through gritted teeth, already trying to push himself up even though his vision hadn't yet cleared. The chattering teeth had paused for a moment at least. Pain apparently overrode hypothermia. Who knew?

Strong hands grabbed his uninjured arm and yanked him quickly to his feet. "We need to find shelter," the big man advised.

Listing strongly to one side, John gave a small nod. "Sssselter . . . good." Okay, the chattering was back. Glancing at Ronon, now that he could see again, he saw worry . . . lots of worry. "M-good." The expression on the Satedan's face said Ronon didn't believe him.

"That way," Ronon said, pointing to their right. The ground had flattened out a little, although still heavily wooded. The area they were now heading for was more mountainous, which meant the going would be harder. John held no illusions about his condition. He was barely on his feet.

"Sure as-a g-g-g-good 'dea?" he slurred. He was so cold, he couldn't get his mouth to work properly. He finally realized that Ronon had one arm around his waist, partially supporting him as he limped on his now painful ankle.

"Should be some caves. The rock is right. We can find a good one and hide for a while, catch our breath."

"Mean me?" John knew who the weak link was here.

"We could both use some rest, Sheppard. Now quit whining like a baby before you give our position away."

John tried to hide the grin that crept across his face, he just wasn't very good at it.

"And quit grinning," Ronon said firmly, but without malice.

"But w-w-we're havin' . . . s-s-s-omuch f-f-fun."

Ronon just sighed as he hauled John through the forest. Realistically, he knew even Ronon was tired at this point. They'd been up all night running from natives and Wraith and continued that through most of the day. It was past noon. They were hungry, thirsty, and wet, as it had rained off and on all morning. Truth be told, he'd just about kill for a long drink of cool water followed by a warm, soft bed to sleep in. Too bad that wouldn't be happening any time soon. He grunted as Ronon almost lost his balance in a slick wad of wet leaves and mud, jerking them both sideways.

It was another thirty minutes before they stopped, with Ronon looking at the rock wall in front of them, a big smile on his face.

"N-n-now look . . . grinning," John said, trying to figure out what was making the big man so happy.

"We have a hidey-hole."

John jerked his head around to stare at the his friend, thinking maybe they should censor what they let Ronon watch from now on. "H-h-hidey h-h-hole?"

Ronon just tightened his grip on John and began walking straight toward the rock cliff. There were several large boulders in a pile and they moved to the left of the large grouping. They were right on top of the rocks before John saw the crevice leading around them and into a small opening in the face of the cliff. How Ronon had seen it from that distance, he would never know. He could only surmise that such skills were probably one reason he had survived his years as a runner.

Getting down to crawl into the small opening with little maneuvering room around him was awkward and painful, but a few minutes later, both men were inside a small cave. It was narrow, only about six feet across, but at least twenty feet long, carved deeply into the stone mountain. John pulled himself along until he could lie against one wall, just grateful to be lying down somewhere dry. His arm, head, and ankle pulsed with the beating of his heart and he just wanted to pass out.

"We should get those wet clothes off you."

Lifting his head a few inches and scowling as deeply as he could, John leveled his best glare at his smirking teammate. "Didn't know . . . you cared."

"I don't . . . just don't want to carry you all the way to the gate. We need to get you warm and dry."

With a heavy sigh, John pushed himself up into a sitting position, groaning when the movement pulled on his arm. "Ronon . . . Wraith . . . outside . . . remember?"

"They'll never see this place and you're soaking wet."

John ran his left hand down the front of his pant leg. "More like . . . uncomfortably damp," he said between shivers. It had finally stopped raining, allowing his clothes to begin drying a little. Now that they were out of the cold wind, he was already beginning to feel a little warmer. At least he could string a few words together in an understandable sentence now . . . more or less. Lifting his head, the far corner of the cave caught his attention. The two sides curved around to meet almost in a point at the back, the diluted light from the opening casting weird shadows against the uneven walls.

"What?" asked Ronon, instantly on alert as he followed John's eyes. "Did you see something?"

Squinting, John pulled himself up straighter. "I'm not sure . . . does this thing . . . go b-b-b-back farther?"

Getting to his feet, Ronon began creeping to the back of the cave. "I don't . . . wait . . . " John watched as the big man suddenly straightened and then moved forward, disappearing from sight. A second later, he stepped back in sight with a broad grin. "You were right. There's a whole other room back here. Not bad Sheppard."

"I have. . . my moments," John mumbled. Ronon quickly closed the distance between them and helped him to his feet. Swaying only once, John pulled away from the Satedan's loose grip and made his way to the nearly hidden entrance to the next chamber. The two walls came together at a sharp angle, leaving only a narrow passage to step through into a room that was easily twice as wide as the one they'd just left. John used the rock wall for support as he limped through the opening, moving far enough in to slide his back down the cool, rough surface.

Closing his eyes a few minutes, John tried to breathe evenly, hoping the burning throb in his arm would slow down and take the sudden little flashes of pain in his ankle with it. When he finally opened his eyes, it was to Ronon crouched a few feet away, watching him. He licked his dry lips, which now seemed like a complete waste of time since his mouth was at least as dry as his lips. "What?" he asked sharply.

"Clothes are still wet."

And that little announcement brought the cold, damp cloth covering his skin to the forefront of his attention, making him shiver. "Thanks f-f-for r'minding me."

"Sheppard." The statement was firm and the look accompanying it was just as firm.

John sighed in exasperation. "Still Wraith out there . . . and I don't exactly . . . have a change of clothes . . . with me."

"You have one of those emergency blankets in your vest. You can use that while your clothes dry out. And they aren't going to find us here . . . at least not for a while."

"You don't know that . . . and I'm not fighting Wraith naked." He wasn't sure if the thought of defending himself against a life-sucking Wraith in his boxers was funny or horrifying, but he wasn't prepared to find out. If they came barging into their little _hidey-hole, _then John was making his last stand dressed.

Ronon grunted his disapproval, but moved back against the opposite wall to sit down. "I'm not taking the heat for this when we get back and you're sick."

Nodding once, John decided to suspend further movement of his head when it cranked up the headache that had been building. "Fine, I'll be happy to take the blame. It's not like I won't be in trouble anyway." He looked down at his right hand in his lap and tried to make a fist. His fingers barely twitched and the pain it stirred up took his breath away and made his eyes water. Oh yeah, trouble.

"How bad do you think it is?" asked Ronon quietly.

"Not broken . . . but there's muscle damage . . . maybe nerve . . . bad enough I won't be much help if they find us."

"They won't."

John wasn't sure if Ronon was trying to convince him or trying to convince himself. Either way, he hoped he was right.

"You should rest."

Irritation rumbled within John at the statement. He wasn't sure if it was because Ronon was basically giving him an order or because of the weakness it implied. The problem was that he was right. John could barely keep his eyes open, exhaustion settling in hard now that they had a relatively safe place to hole up for a while. The irritation drifted away with the admittance that he really wanted to be able to close his eyes and sleep for a while. "Wake me in two hours." Somehow that didn't come out sounding quite as forceful as he'd wanted.

"Yeah . . . right."

Was it his imagination or had that sounded a bit condescending? He'd just have to figure it out later because his lids had already closed and there was no getting them back open.

oOo

Ronon watched Sheppard jerk awake with a start, sitting upright only to fall back against the wall with a grunt of pain. After a few moments of ragged breathing, the pilot opened his eyes to stare at Ronon. "How long?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep and pain.

"Almost four hours."

Scowling, John's lips drew up in a tight line as he pulled himself more upright. "I told you to wake me in two."

"You needed the sleep."

"So do you," John said accusingly. He glanced around the cave and then back to Ronon. "Anything happen I should know about?"

"Nope."

"You know you really shouldn't talk so much. It gets annoying."

Ronon grunted in response, but a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "I'm practicing to beat McKay."

John's eyebrows rose and he twisted his head a bit. "Oh, he has a sense of humor after all. Good to know." His expression darkening a bit, John glanced toward the entrance. "Speaking of McKay, I wonder if they made it back to Atlantis."

"Teyla can take care of McKay," Ronon announced with a sense of finality.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He didn't look or sound convinced, but Ronon couldn't make any guarantees. He was just going on gut feelings, not actual knowledge. Despite his confident prediction, worry twisted his own gut at the moment, worry for all three team members because Sheppard didn't look too good.

"You should probably eat. Do you have anything?"

Looking down at his vest, John brought up his good arm and opened one of the pockets. Pulling out two powerbars, he tossed one to Ronon. "You need to eat too, especially since you may be carrying me before this is over."

Snorting loudly, Ronon shook his head. "No, you can walk. I'm not carrying you, you're heavy."

John rolled his eyes as he struggled to get the package open with one hand. "I meant figuratively, not literally. No way in hell I'm letting you pick me up and carry me." Frustrated, he gave up for a moment and frowned at Ronon. "And I am _not _heavy. You must be thinking of Rodney."

"You're heavier than you look," he said, watching John fiddle with the package again. Scrabbling across the dirt floor, he took the powerbar and ripped it open, handing the gaping package back to John. "There."

"Thanks," John said with a grimace as he watched the former runner return to his seat. Folding the foil wrapper back, he eyed the food warily before taking a small bite. Ronon knew that meant his stomach was unsettled, another sign that wasn't particularly good.

Opening his own bar, Ronon ate the thing in three enormous bites. When it was swallowed, he glanced over to find John staring at him. "Hungry much?" the man inquired incredulously.

"Still am," he said, patting his stomach.

John shrugged the shoulder of his good arm. "Yeah, well I've got two more, but we should save them in case this drags on a while."

"Agreed," Ronon said standing. "I'm going to look for some water. We can go a lot longer without food than we can without water."

"Yeah, but we don't have anything to put it in. I lost my water bottle somewhere in the whole escape process."

"I'll find something."

John looked uncertain, as if he wanted to stop Ronon but didn't know how. He had to know they needed water and that he was in no shape to help. He finally gave a tiny nod. "Okay, just . . . be careful."

Ronon grinned. "Always am," he said as he slipped through the narrow opening and crept toward the entrance. The light was beginning to fade early, from the clouds no doubt, and for that he was grateful. He hated leaving Sheppard unprotected, but he knew his friend needed water even more than he did. The way the bandage and his shirt were soaked, the officer had lost a lot of blood, more than he was letting on. This would also give him a chance to check out the Wraith situation. And if he was lucky, maybe he'd find them something better to eat.

oOo

Sam Carter stood just inside the entrance to the mess hall, watching Rodney and Teyla sit quietly at a table next to the far wall. Most of the dinner crowd had left, leaving the room fairly quiet and almost empty. Sighing, she grabbed a cup of coffee and walked over to their table.

"Mind if I join you?"

Rodney glanced up and then shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well. I'll warn you, though, the natives aren't necessarily friendly tonight." He stabbed at the half-eaten pie in front of him and then pushed the plate away. "They need to figure out there are actual people trying to eat this stuff. I want to requisition a new cook book on the _Daedalus's _next run."

Sam just cleared her throat and didn't mention that she'd eaten a piece earlier and it was perfectly fine. Rodney was obviously just being Rodney. "Look, I just wanted to tell you that I know this isn't easy, the waiting and the wondering."

"It is not," agreed Teyla earnestly. "But we know it is the only way to possibly get Ronon and John back alive. We can wait if we must."

Nodding, Sam pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "I don't want you to think I'm giving up on them or not doing everything we can. Our hands are tied for now, but the minute we can go after them, we will."

"We know," said Rodney. He looked at her in a way that made her uneasy, as if he was looking inside her head. The Rodney she'd known years earlier had never seemed to care enough to look that intensely at anyone other than himself. "I've read enough mission reports to know you understand, probably more than just about anyone else."

With a small smile, Sam nodded. "I guess I can honestly say, been there and done that." She looked at each of them in turn, reading the pain on their faces. "And I know it never gets any easier. Just try to keep hope, okay?"

"We will not give up on either John or Ronon," Teyla said firmly. "We will bring them home."

"Yes, we will," added Rodney confidently. "Besides, Sheppard's got more lives than a whole herd of cats. I'm sure he'd be willing to share one with Ronon."

Sam almost laughed when Teyla quirked one eyebrow up at Rodney's analysis of the situation. "I've heard Ronon's had a few close calls himself. Between the two of them, they'll be fine."

"Exactly," said Rodney. "We'll arrive to rescue them only to find Ronon's dispatched half of them with his knife collection and Sheppard's formed an alliance with the other half. Nothing to worry about."

oOo

It was dark when Ronon returned and he cautiously slid into the front cave, stopping to listen for any sounds. Hearing nothing, he quietly slid to the back of the narrow room and paused to listen again. The second chamber was now pitch black, but he could faintly hear the slight wheeze of someone breathing.

"Sheppard?" he whispered, his knife up to attack anything that came his way.

The breathing hitched and was followed by the sounds of fabric scraping. "Ronon?"

"Yeah, it's me," he answered, relieved to find nothing had happened to Sheppard. He moved into the rear cave by feel and by memory since he couldn't see anything. A small light came on about the time he sat down and he looked up to see Sheppard had retrieved the small flashlight from his vest.

"You okay?"

Ronon answered by pulling out an odd looking pouch and handing it to the injured man. "Water," he explained.

John hesitated only a moment before accepting the container, drinking heavily from it for several seconds.

"I didn't see any Wraith, but I did find signs that they've been here recently. We should probably move toward the gate in a few hours."

John nodded as he stared at the animal skin pouch for a second before handing it back to Ronon. "Where'd you find that? Looks like something out of an old cowboy and Indian movie."

"Took it off one of the men from the village. He was dead."

"From us?" John questioned.

"Wraith." He didn't go into detail about the five desiccated corpses he'd found together in the forest, where the Wraith had apparently caught up to them and decided they were no longer worth keeping alive. If they were lucky, the creatures had had their fill and moved on. If not, they'd be running again soon. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, just not with company.

Ronon held up the strips of cloth he'd cut from one of the cleaner shirts. "We need to work on your arm."

Grimacing, John nodded and levered himself up to a sitting position. Ronon crouched next him and stared at Sheppard for a moment. "This is going to hurt."

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know. Just do it." Sheppard looked away as Ronon removed the old bandage, now stuck to the wound with dried blood. Ronon rinsed the wound with some of the water and then covered it with the cleanest of the cloth strips. Sheppard grunted a couple of times, but made no other sound. When he was finished, Ronon used a larger piece to make a sling so that Sheppard's injured arm was more secure.

"Better?" the big man asked.

Sweat dotted Sheppard's brow and his face was drained of all color. "Ask me that . . . in a few minutes."

Ronon nodded in understanding and pointed to Sheppard's foot. "Want me to wrap the ankle?"

"Nah, I think it's just twisted or I probably wouldn't be walking on it at all." His breathing seemed to have settled down from the previous gasping, which Ronon took as a sign that the pain was settling as well.

With a nod, Ronon stuck the few remaining strips in his coat pocket and scooted back to lean against the wall.

"Why don't you get some sleep, buddy," Sheppard suggested. "I'll keep watch this time. I have a feeling you're going to need it before this is over."

Ronon knew he was right. He'd been on the go for a day and a half now and he was nearing his limits. He'd need extra reserves to get them to the gate alive since Sheppard wouldn't be able to do much in a fight. "Wake me if there's trouble."

"I will," John said as he turned off the small light. "Don't let the bedbugs bite," he said quietly from across the cave.

"No bedbugs. Might be a few tagglewarns though."

"Oh great, do I want to know what that is?

"Nope."

John sighed in the dark. "Okay, going with ignorance is bliss. Or at least it was until you told me otherwise."

"They aren't bad. Keller could pull them out."

"Oh, for the love of . . . just stop talking. At least McKay just talks nonsense technobabble that doesn't leave me feeling like things are crawling all over me." The light came on for a moment and John checked his arms and legs. Scowling at a grinning Ronon, he turned the light back off. "Go to sleep. And that's an order."

Ronon smiled to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head back against the rock wall. When it came to bugs, Sheppard was almost as easy to bait as McKay.

OoO

Ronon had slept a few hours, opened his eyes, and insisted that they had to leave. John just agreed without admitting that he was pretty sure he'd dozed off a couple of times. It was never more than a few minutes, but enough that he was left feeling even more like a liability.

He stumbled briefly, an uneven place in the ground wreaking havoc with his twisted ankle. John managed to right himself before Ronon's hand grabbed his arm. "So'kay" he mumbled, fighting to keep on his feet. He was beyond exhausted, the constant pain in his arm the only thing keeping him awake.

"Where . . . are we?" John prayed for Ronon to say they were nearing the gate.

"Working our way back to the gate. You want me to help you?"

John would have sighed, but he couldn't spare the breath. He was panting and wheezing like an old man with emphysema. That combined with the way he was hot and then cold while sweating and shivering at the same time meant he was sick on top of everything else. Ronon would undoubtedly gloat about his correct prediction.

"No . . . no help . . . how far?"

Ronon looked up at the light streaming down through the trees. "It's almost midday. We better find a place to hide and rest. We might make the gate tomorrow if we cover a good distance tonight."

Another twenty-four hours of misery. _Piece of cake, _John told himself. "Cave?" he asked hopefully.

"No caves around here. We'll have to look for something else."

John had known that. Although the ground was still hilly, the rocks from before were gone. Whatever shelter they found would not be nearly as safe or as comfortable as what they'd had before. He stumbled again, this time landing hard on his knees before he had a chance to react. It took a moment for the world around him to stop rotating and he found himself swallowing back bile.

"Sheppard?" Ronon was beside him, one hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"I'm 'kay . . . just . . . give me . . . minute." It took another minute to be sure he wasn't going to puke or pass out. "Okay."

Ronon helped him to his feet, hanging onto his left arm until the Satedan was sure he wasn't going to collapse. "Ronon . . . "

"I'm not leaving you, Sheppard, so don't even start." His voice was firm and strong and the look on his face determined.

"Not sure . . . I can . . . "

"We'll stop soon. You can make it until then."

John stared at the man, his teammate, his friend. He wanted to tell Ronon to leave him, that he could make it faster without John slowing him down. Instead he said, "Thanks."

Ronon just grunted and urged him forward. Twenty minutes later, Ronon nodded toward a clump of bushes. "There."

John just stared. "There?"

"Yeah. Needs a little work, but it'll do."

"It's . . .clump'a bushes," John wheezed out, leaning on his left foot to get the pressure off his throbbing ankle.

Ronon just grinned knowingly. "Not for long." A few moments later, Ronon helped John ease down in front of a tree. "Stay here," he commanded and then slunk off almost without a sound.

John sat staring in the distance for several seconds, not really focusing on anything in particular. "Huh . . . for some reason I thought I was in charge," he mumbled before letting his head tilt back against the rough bark. His arm was screaming at him and every movement of his fingers made him want to tear his hair out. Drenched in sweat, he shivered in the slight breeze while trying to decide how he could hold himself together long enough to make it to the gate. He barely had the energy to blink.

"Sheppard?"

Jerking his head up, John flinched at the close proximity of Ronon's face to his. "What?" he asked, his voice scratchy and low. He suddenly realized he must have dozed off.

"Shelter's ready. You need to move." Ronon dipped his head toward the clump of bushes.

Following the runner's nod, John stared at the shrubbery before him. Squinting in concentration, he first thought the foliage looked no different, but then he noticed it seemed larger. "What did you do?"

"Come see," Ronon replied, taking his arm to help the pilot to his feet. It took a moment for John's legs to get working once he was on his feet, but when they finally did, the two men moved toward the shelter. Crouching down, Ronon crawled through an opening John couldn't even see until part of the Satedan disappeared.

"Huh," John breathed out before following. The space inside was small, barely large enough for the two men to stretch out side by side and only just high enough for them to sit. Branches had been weaved together and worked into the surrounding shrubbery in such a way as to make the makeshift shelter invisible from the outside. "Cool," John couldn't help but murmur in appreciation.

"If we're quiet, we should be safe here. Once it's dark again, we can head for the gate."

John nodded. "You really think we can make it tomorrow?" He hoped that hadn't come out sounding as desperate as he felt.

"We'll make it," Ronon replied, but the way his teammate was looking at him, John wasn't sure if he actually thought that or if he was saying what he thought John wanted to hear. As if Ronon was reading his mind, he said, "We can make it, Sheppard."

"Yeah, okay."

"Get some rest."

Rolling his eyes, John sighed. "Again with the orders." When Ronon just snorted in response, John grimaced and squirmed around the small space until he was lying down. He didn't like it, but he knew his only chance of making it through another night on the run was to do as Ronon said. No words were exchanged, but Ronon's expression and position told John that he would be keeping watch. "At least wake me to take a turn this time."

"Sure," Ronon said with a smirk.

It seemed like John had barely closed his eyes when he was jerking awake with a start. He raised up to lean on his left elbow before he processed Ronon sitting warily beside him shaking his head. John froze, military instincts taking over. It only took a few seconds for him to hear the sound of movement right outside their shelter. Movement that was too loud and too continuous to be that of animals. John found himself instinctively holding his breath.

TBC

_This will be posted in two parts. I'll post the second chapter later today or possibly tomorrow, after I've had a chance to go back over it. I'm trying to fix a few mistakes I didn't catch the first time around. No matter how hard I try, I always miss stuff._


	2. Chapter 2

**Running - Part 2**

The two men silently stared at one another as they sat frozen in place. The shuffling noises had quieted some, but rough voices took their place.

"_Anything?"_

"_Nothing. It is as if they vanished."_

"_Humans do not vanish. They are here somewhere. Continue your search."_

"_These are not ordinary humans. They are Lanteans. Perhaps they had a ship the others did not know of."_

"_It is doubtful. The Lantean ship would be hard to land with so many trees. We will continue to look for them a little longer. Capturing Lanteans would be a fine prize for our queen."_

There was muffled grunting followed by the fading sounds of footsteps through the brush. Ronon and John continued to stare silently at one another for several minutes before relaxing their tense bodies. John let his head drop and took in a deep breath. "That was close," he whispered.

Ronon nodded, looking up at the woven branches covering them. He had his gun drawn and was frowning slightly. John opened his mouth to ask if anything was wrong, only to suddenly sneeze twice in quick succession. The involuntary actions had occurred without warning, giving him no time to muffle their sound. Frozen in place once again, he didn't dare even sniffle the congestion he'd managed to loosen.

Just as he began to relax again, thinking the Wraith had been far enough away to miss his impromptu fit, the roof was torn away in flurry of scraping branches and whirling dead leaves. John immediately rolled to his left as a stunner blast passed close enough to make the skin on his arm tingle. By the time he'd made a one-eighty to land on his back, he looked up just in time to see a male Wraith get flung back by a red blast from Ronon's gun. Slightly dizzy from his tumbling act, it took him a moment to get to his knees and keep watch while Ronon checked the body.

"Dead," the Satedan rumbled as he stood and surveyed the forest. When no sign of reinforcements came crashing through the brush, he walked over to offer John a hand up.

"Thanks," the colonel said as he accepted the help to his feet. They both continued to scan the surrounding area, watching for any sign of movement. "Think we got lucky for once?"

"About time," Ronon replied. "But we can't stay here."

John sighed. "Yeah, I know." The rest had helped, but he still felt like a truck had run him over in the very recent past. He wasn't at all sure how much longer he would last, but one thing was for sure. There was no way they could stay here with a dead Wraith. "We should try to hide the body. If they find him, they'll know for sure we're still here."

Nodding, Ronon began dragging the corpse to their former hiding place. John felt a little guilty not helping, but he knew he had to save his strength for running. Watching as Ronon covered the body with the former roof of their structure and then used a branch to brush away the footprints in the surrounding loose dirt, John had to smile. "You do good work," he said, noting that it just looked like a big clump of bushes and forest debris.

"Lots of practice," Ronon said with a shrug and a grin. "We need to get moving."

Grimacing, John headed the way Ronon was pointing. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

oOo

They spent the next several hours dodging Wraith, forcing them to swing out in a path that took them farther from the gate. There were no good hiding places, with the trees and brush so thin in places as to make them feel like sitting ducks. By the time they found a good place to stop and felt safe doing it, it was getting dark. The trees were sparse in this direction, but there were large slabs of rock, many of them piled at odd angles. One such grouping had a small hollow in the middle, if you were willing to climb up several feet and then lower yourself down at an extreme angle to fit into it. John barely had the energy to accomplish the maneuver before collapsing onto the hard rock floor of their newfound hiding spot. The cool stone felt good against the hot, tight skin of his face.

"We should be safe here for a while," Ronon said, dropping down beside him. "We're out of the main search area and well hidden."

"Unless they find us, and then we're boxed in and good as dead." John groaned. "Well crap, I'm channeling Rodney."

Ronon snickered beside him, which didn't make him feel any better. "Maybe you're hanging around him too much."

"Maybe," John echoed. The light moment vanished as he once again wondered if Rodney and Teyla had made it through the gate. Had all this elaborate running around done any good?

"They made it."

Smiling, John pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing when he brushed his injured arm against a sharp rock facing. "You reading my mind again?"

"Not hard right now," he said, barely visible in the darkness. "I was thinking about them too."

John was a little surprised at the admission, but it pleased him just the same. "I guess teams are like that." A sudden thought struck him and he squinted up at the tiny shaft of light bending around the stacked rocks to provide them some muted visibility. "I wonder if they're in Atlantis right now, worrying about us. If they've sent a MALP through, then they know this place is crawling with Wraith. Surely they wouldn't try to . . . "

"They wouldn't. Carter knows better, even if the others want to come."

John nodded. Ronon was right. Carter was military and had dealt with these type situations before. She was clear headed enough to make the right decision, even if it was a hard one. "You're right. Colonel Carter knows what she's doing. Guess we just need to keep avoiding Wraith for a while longer." John only wished that was as easy as it sounded.

"We'll make it, Sheppard."

"I thought I was supposed to be the optimistic one." John twisted around to dig out the two remaining power bars, grimacing at the pull on his injured arm. "Supper time," he sing songed and tossed Ronon his share.

Ronon had his entire bar eaten by the time John got his package open. "You need to get some sleep," Ronon said, handing him the water pouch after washing down his meager meal.

After making quick work of his own food, John took several drinks before handing the container back to Ronon, noting it was getting low again. "You need to rest too, big guy."

"I will. I'll get more water later. For now, let's sleep."

John had to admit to liking that idea, if he could just go to sleep. His arm had passed throbbing on its way to full blown agony. Every movement of the right side of his body ignited flames up into his shoulder and all the way down to his hand. The only good thing was that it overshadowed the pain in his ankle to the extent it was almost negligible when he wasn't putting any weight on it. His head hurt and felt like it was stuffed with old rags and his chest felt constricted and heavy. And he was cold one minute, hot the next.

"You okay, Sheppard?"

John wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for a long sigh. "Sure, I'm fine," he lied. The answering grunt said it all.

oOo

Ronon squatted behind the large rock, watching and waiting quietly. A half moon partially illuminated the surrounding area. When there were no sights or sounds out of place for a forest in late evening, the large man slipped silently to the slanted pile of rocks on the far side of the field. Crouching in the dark for several minutes, he finally felt safe enough to scale the side of the group and slide inside. Although it was even darker inside the rock pile, Ronon's eyes were adjusted enough to see Sheppard jerk his head up at the sound of his feet hitting the bottom stone.

"What? Ronon?"

Blinking in confusion, the colonel tried to sit up, falling back with a groan as he pressed his injured arm to his side. He rolled back and forth for a few moments, obviously trying to work through the pain without making any noise.

"It's all right, Sheppard. I didn't see any Wraith around."

When the injured man finally stilled, Ronon noticed how quick and shallow his breaths were coming. He knew Sheppard was in bad shape and getting worse almost by the minute. What he didn't know was how to get them to the gate any faster. Grinding his teeth against the building frustration, he saw Sheppard staring at him.

"Where'd ya'go?" Sheppard's voice was so scratchy and quiet as to almost be inaudible.

"Water," he answered, holding up the pouch for a moment before moving closer to Sheppard so he could help him sit. The pilot didn't argue when Ronon slid one hand behind his back to lift him upright and prop him against the wall. Even in the dark, he could see the pallor of Sheppard's face along with the sheen of sweat across his brow. Lifting the water container, he handed it over to John's good hand.

"I did a little scouting and didn't see any Wraith around here. I think we swung far enough out that we eluded their search parties. We should be safe for a while."

Sheppard finished his drink and handed the canteen back to Ronon. "Gotta keep moving."

"You need to rest some more, Sheppard."

Sheppard's face was lost in the shadows for a moment, and then he leaned forward. A shaft of light caught his glittering eyes. "We need to get out of here," he said slowly, but clearly. "I'm not going to last much longer."

A cold knot suddenly formed in the pit of Ronon's stomach. He wanted to argue with Sheppard, but he knew the man was right. As weak and sick as Sheppard was, it might already be too late. With a sigh, he nodded his assent.

oOo

Every breath seemed like a struggle and his chest felt heavy, unyielding. The pounding in his head reverberated around his skull with every step. Every time he noticed a crevice or partially hidden spot, he had to fight the urge to lie down in it so he could curl up and go to sleep. John thought about asking Ronon to leave him. The only reason he didn't was because he knew it would just waste time, time he didn't have. Eventually his legs would give out and then Ronon would feel compelled to carry him, an act that would slow him down and make him more vulnerable to Wraith attack. John couldn't let that happen.

He had no idea how long they trudged along, him putting one foot in front of the other, his vision tunneled on Ronon's back. The ex-runner kept glancing back at him, making sure his CO was keeping up. John decided to take that as a challenge and made sure he was never more than a few steps behind. At some point, the rain started up again. It was nice at first, washing away the sweat and cooling his overheated body. Then he started shivering and couldn't seem to stop, sending shockwaves of pain through his arm. After a while, he realized his hand was numb and he couldn't even curl his fingers into a half fist any more.

"Sheppard."

John was so focused on walking, he almost ran into Ronon when he stopped. Confused, he looked up into the face of his friend. Briefly distracted by the rain dripping off dreadlocks to roll down Ronon's face, the words slid over him, never really consciously registering.

"Sheppard?" The Satedan's forehead creased as his brows arched. "Are you with me?"

"What?" John blinked a few times as the question finally sunk in and his mind seemed to focus. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." Bringing his good hand up, he wiped the rain from his face and glanced around. They were still in the woods, but it looked vaguely familiar. The darkness was beginning to retreat, the muted light of dawn hovering just out of view.

"You need to rest."

John sighed and that made him cough. He could almost feel the phlegm thickening in his chest, blocking off his air supply. When he'd finally finished, he cleared his throat and looked up into the worried face of his friend. "I can make it. I think we're getting close to the gate."

"We are getting close and that's why I need to scout ahead. It's been long enough that some of the Wraith will have left. I need to see what we're dealing with and the best way to approach the gate. Until I know where the remaining Wraith are, I need to do this quietly." He stared hard at John to emphasize his point.

The tickle in his throat added further weight to Ronon's argument. "Fine," he barked, roughly clearing his throat again. He successfully resisted the urge to pull away from Ronon when the Satedan took his good arm to help him sit against a tree. He wasn't actually hidden, but the cluster of trees and bushes around him was particularly thick and he wouldn't be readily visible unless the Wraith came close. Once seated, he felt like he might just melt into the ground beneath him. Now if he only had some dry clothes and a blanket to stop his shivering.

"Okay, I'm set," John announced, encouraging Ronon to go. The big man seemed huge looming over him and John couldn't help but be grateful they were on the same side. As Ronon stood looking down at him, he thought he might have to make it an order until Ronon finally slipped into the foliage and darkness.

"Good luck, big guy," John whispered. He knew he should try to keep watch, but he found his lids getting heavy as exhaustion and blood loss began to catch up to him.

oOo

Ronon crouched behind a vine covered shrub, listening. He had encountered two drones, but managed to evade them both. It had been hard not to kill the two abominations, but he had to think about Sheppard. If he brought more Wraith to the area, he and Sheppard would never make it to the gate. Their goal was probably still a half day away, especially since they were moving slowly, but the number of Wraith in the forest seemed to have diminished significantly. For that he was grateful.

Hearing nothing, Ronon began quietly moving through the trees on his way back to Sheppard. He'd been gone longer than he meant to and the sun was now getting pretty high. Anyone scouting close to Sheppard would see him, not to mention hearing him if he was coughing. He was still unprepared for the sight that greeted him as he returned to his friend.

Sheppard was no longer slumped against a tree, but lying prone on the ground with a Wraith kneeling beside him, feeding hand poised over its prey. When the feeding hand came down, Ronon roared as he ran for the pair, barreling into the Wraith as Sheppard's back arched up against the pain. His momentum carried the two of them away from Sheppard, tumbling over one another until they banged into a large rock.

Ronon pushed away from the Wraith and grabbed for his blaster now that he had his adversary safely away from Sheppard. The gun had no sooner cleared its holster when it was kicked from his hand with such force that he thought his fingers might be broken. Ronon scrabbled backwards several feet before using a low branch to swing himself up. Whirling around, he threw up his right arm to block a fist only to have the Wraith use his other hand to hit him hard enough in the chest to send him flying. When he hit the ground, he was thankful for the layers of leaf litter below him, partially cushioning his landing.

The relief was short lived because his vision cleared to see the huge male charging toward him again, his lips bared back to reveal rows of sharp, dagger-like teeth. Hate burned deep in the former runner when thoughts of his homeworld being destroyed by these creatures filled his mind, the images from the MALP sent by the Lanteans steeling his resolve to kill those responsible. With a feral growl, Ronon got back to his feet in time to trade blows with his attacker. Adrenalin, rage, and hate held him for awhile, but eventually the Wraith lost patience and sent Ronon flying again.

Dazed, it was several seconds before Ronon was able to move and then it was too late. He gasped for breath that didn't want to come as he tried to focus on the blurry form standing at his side.

"I will feast on you, and then I will take the Lantean to my Queen to be interrogated." The Wraith laughed. "Maybe she will feed on him. Maybe she will make him a runner. Maybe we will turn him against his people to serve us."

Ronon blinked furiously, trying to get his head to clear while trying to push himself up. His entire body protested the motion, but he knew if he didn't win the battle, Sheppard would lose too. The Wraith began kneeling down to get closer to his prey when red light suddenly enveloped him. The predator stiffened and yelled before falling next to Ronon with a plop. Ronon could only stare, uncertain of what had happened.

With sudden realization, Ronon turned to look at Sheppard, sitting up and holding Ronon's blaster. He let his left arm drop as if he didn't have the energy to hold it up any more. Dark eyes glittered in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the canopy above.

"You okay?" Sheppard asked.

Ronon pushed himself up to sit and glanced back down at the Wraith, the uniform over his chest still smoking. "Yeah, I am now," he answered, looking back at his friend. Sheppard's shirt hung open, a small circle of blood welled on his chest. Ronon felt his breath catch in his throat. "You?"

Sheppard followed Ronon's eyes to the wound on his chest. He didn't look any different to Ronon, but he wasn't sure how long the Wraith had been able to feed. Sheppard looked back up at him. "I don't think he took much, if anything. About the time the pain hit, you knocked him off me. Do I . . . " Sheppard dropped the blaster in his lap to wave his hand at his face.

"No, you look the same."

Sighing, Sheppard gave a small nod. "Good, okay." Picking up the blaster, he stared at it a moment before looking back to Ronon. "I really need to get one of these. Seriously."

Ronon laughed, feeling some of the tension roll out of him. "Well, you can't have that one." Pulling himself to his feet with the aid of a tree, Ronon began limping over to Sheppard. His body felt like someone had wrecked a jumper on it, the cracked ribs the Wraith had given him making every breath a bit of a chore. He wasn't sure he was going to be much help to Sheppard.

"Ready?"

Ronon looked up to see Sheppard standing there waiting on him. He was surprised the man had the energy to get up by himself until it hit him. "Enzyme?"

Sheppard just grinned. "Oh, yeah, a big shot of it. There'll be hell to pay tomorrow, but it's going to get me to the gate today. Need a hand?"

"I can make it," Ronon said, determined to make it on his own. "What about your arm?"

Glancing at his right arm, Sheppard slowly closed his fingers into a loose fist. "Still not going to be much good, but on the plus side, the pain is kind of muted behind the extreme buzzing in my ears."

Grunting, Ronon held his hand out. "Gun?"

Sheppard looked down at the gun in his left hand, his expression close to pouting. "You know, I did save your life," he said, glancing back up at Ronon with a lopsided grin.

"Yeah," Ronon conceded. "But I saved yours first. You don't get the gun."

With an exaggerated sigh, Sheppard handed the gun back. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Say that the next time we spar," Ronon replied, checking the gun over before returning it to the holster.

Sheppard looked him over and then looked down at himself. "Somehow, I don't think either of us will be doing any sparring in the near future. Personally, I'm looking forward to a dry bed and some good drugs. Let's go."

Ronon watched Sheppard take several steps before loudly clearing his throat. When Sheppard turned to look at him, he tipped his head in the opposite direction. "The gate is that way."

Sheppard looked over his shoulder and then in the direction Ronon had indicated. "Right, I knew that."

The two men started walking. Ronon found he couldn't go very fast because that involved increasing his respirations, which wasn't an option right now. Sheppard almost seemed to be bouncing along, his feet barely touching the ground. They were both going to be feeling like crap tomorrow, which meant they really needed to get back to Atlantis today.

oOo

It took them until late afternoon to make it to the gate. Ronon had apparently landed more on his right side because not only did his ribs hurt, but his hip and lower back were killing him as well. Although he'd tried hard not to slow them down, his movements had gradually become more labored and sluggish. That, combined with the two times they had to swing away from their path to avoid drones, had made the trip take twice as long as he had anticipated.

They watched the gate through the trees. Two drones stood guard while a male paced around in front of their goal. "We can take them," Sheppard whispered, nervously licking his lips. They'd apparently lost their water in the fight with the Wraith and Ronon figured his CO was as thirsty as he was. Probably more because of the way he'd practically bounced off the trees the last few hours.

"Maybe we should wait for nightfall," Ronon suggested, kind of surprising himself. He wondered if they'd switched bodies, or maybe just personalities, somewhere along the way.

Sheppard eyed him critically, making Ronon wince under the scrutiny. "Yeah, you're probably not up to a fight right now. I'm guessing broken ribs, possible internal injuries, maybe a concussion. Don't worry, buddy. I can take 'em, but I'll need your gun." He held out his hand as if expecting Ronon just to hand over the blaster.

"You can't take on three Wraith by yourself. We need a different plan." No way was Ronon giving his gun over to Sheppard while he was hopped up on Wraith enzyme.

"Look, I'm high as a kite right now and feeling no pain. I can do this. My strength and reflexes are at an all time high, but I need your gun. It has a whole lot more impact on those things than my gun."

Ronon stared into John's blown pupils and shook his head. There was no way this would ever be a good idea. "What about your arm?"

John pulled his arm out of the sling and made a loose fist before raising it to near waist level. "Okay, so it's not a hundred percent, but I can use it if I need to."

The objection Ronon opened his mouth to voice was quickly lost in the sudden scramble to keep the colonel from grabbing his gun. He failed, his responses slowed by pain and exhaustion. Anger mixed with fear as he glared at Sheppard. "What the . . . Sheppard, you can't do this. You're going to get yourself killed."

His friend stood looking at him, his expression a neutral mask. Sheppard's sides billowed out with his attempts to pull in more air, softly whistling in the otherwise silent forest. He wasn't sure if the heavy breathing was due to the enzyme, the respiratory infection, or both.

Sheppard tipped his head once and then broke into a huge grin. "Sorry, buddy, but I have to do this. It's high time I save you for once. Wish me luck!" And then Sheppard was gone, leaving a trail of dancing leaves in his wake.

Ronon cursed softly, wanting to yell at Sheppard, but afraid if he did he'd bring the Wraith down on both of them. Instead, he followed the man, but at a much slower pace. His view was blocked by a thick section of trees with lots of streaming vines and bushes. The sound of weapons fire spurred him on, along with shouting and clanging. Branches slapped him in the face and tore at his arms as he rushed through the underbrush, desperate to get to Sheppard. He had no idea what he would do when he did.

Breaking through the trees, Ronon was just in time to see Sheppard flat on his back while the male approached him. The two drones were already dead. Ronon yelled to get the Wraith's attention, giving Sheppard enough time to grab the dropped blaster beside him and shoot the creature twice in the chest. The male jerked with each shot and then toppled backwards into the grass. Sheppard collapsed back to the ground, prompting Ronon to hurry toward him as much as he could with his screaming ribs.

"Sheppard?"

The colonel opened his eyes and looked up at Ronon. "I'm okay, just knocked . . . the wind . . . outta me. You?"

"Sheppard, you're an idiot."

Sheppard grinned. "You've been hangin' . . . 'round McKay . . . too much."

Ronon offered his hand and Sheppard took it. After being pulled to his feet, the colonel swiped away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and nodded at the gate. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"

"After you return my blaster." Ronon held out his hand. Sheppard stood staring at him a moment, as if mulling over whether to try to keep it or not, and then handed it back to him. Ronon checked it and returned it to its holster before looking back at Sheppard. "You ever take my gun like that again and I'll break your arm."

Sheppard did his lopsided grin thing again, shrugging one shoulder. "I still need one of those. You're bound to know where I can get one."

"Nope, it's the only one. Hurry up and dial before any more Wraith show up."

Sheppard began punching symbols. "No, seriously, where can I get one?"

"You can't, now shut up."

"You can't tell me to shut up," Sheppard insisted, punching the middle button with a little more force than necessary. "I'm the CO. Hey, I could order you to give me your gun."

"No you can't. Send your IDC so we can go home."

Sheppard looked at the gate for a moment before he finally realized what he was supposed to be doing. After punching in his code, they began walking toward the shimmering puddle. "You really don't think we can find me a gun like yours?"

Ronon sighed and grabbed Sheppard's arm, dragging him through the gate.

oOo

The buzz in John's head now sounded like a whole swarm of bees, or maybe two. When they came through the gate, the sounds of yelling and people clamoring around them seemed muted and distant behind the insects in his ears. Sam was there, looking concerned and talking to him. Then McKay appeared, poking him in his good arm for some reason John couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

The next thing he knew, John was watching the ceiling roll by, but he was too wiped to ask anyone what was going on. Then suddenly Keller was peering at him and her mouth was moving but all he could hear was the buzzing. When his vision began to gray, he decided he was too tired and too confused to try to keep up, so he let everything fade away.

" . . . pretty much gone from his system, leaving him exhausted. Withdrawal is going to make him feel like crap for a few days, along with his injuries and the respiratory infection."

John suddenly had to cough, as if the mention of his illness had flared it up. He felt himself rising as he struggled between bouts to draw in enough air, the bed underneath him angling him into more of a sitting position. When the spasms passed, something touched his lips.

"Drink, colonel, but just a few sips."

He obeyed Keller's voice, forcing himself to draw the water in slowly until the straw was pulled away. The tickle in his throat calmed, John opened his eyes to find his bed surrounded by Keller,Teyla, Rodney on crutches, and Sam Carter. He made good use of the nasal cannula brushing up against his nose, drawing heavily on the oxygen for several moments.

Keller smiled at him. "Better?"

John just nodded. He looked down at himself, taking inventory. His right arm was in a sling, leaving his left free for the IV. He thought he could feel wrapping around his ankle, surprising him. The ankle hadn't bothered him the last few hours of their trek and he'd forgotten about it. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew he was forgetting something.

"Ronon?" John suddenly said, lifting his head up to look around.

Keller stepped back to reveal Ronon in the bed next door, giving him a wave with his non-IV hand. "You okay, Chewie?" John asked, because Ronon really looked like hell. Scratches covered his face and arms, along with some pretty livid bruises.

"I'm fine," the Satedan answered before scowling at Jennifer. "Don't know why I can't get up."

Jennifer crossed her arms in a show of defiance. "That would be three cracked ribs, a little internal bleeding, a bruised kidney, and several strained muscles in your back, Specialist Dex."

"Internal bleeding?" asked John, coming off the pillows a bit before pain drove him back down.

Turning back to him, Jennifer patted his shoulder. "Just a bit and it resolved itself without surgery. He also took a pretty good knock to the head, but not hard enough for a concussion."

"We figured that hard head would come in handy for something," said Rodney with a huge smirk. When Teyla frowned at him, he just shrugged his shoulders and continued to grin. John found it contagious and broke into his own grin.

"Now ask her to outline your injuries, Sheppard," Ronon quipped.

John felt the grin fade away. Okay, time to face the music. He looked up at the doctor and raised his brows a bit. "Doc?"

"Mild ankle sprain, which shouldn't cause you much trouble. The respiratory infection is in the early stages of pneumonia, but we've started you on antibiotics, so I'm hopeful that will clear up shortly as well. You're running a fever, which will probably leave you feeling pretty wrung out. The knife wound to the arm was pretty severe, as I'm sure you're aware. We patched you up in surgery, but there was both nerve and muscle damage. With proper care and physical therapy, you should recover, but it's going to be a slow process, so you'll have to be patient."

A loud snort came from Rodney's direction and John glared at the scientist, at least as much as he was capable of glaring at the moment. It felt pretty weak and must have looked that way too, since Rodney didn't seem impressed. Teyla gave him a look that seemed to deflate him, though, which cheered John up. At least until she turned back to him.

"I am positive that John is wise enough to follow Jennifer's instructions and not push himself too hard," she stated firmly. Then she arched one eyebrow in a very intimidating way.

John swallowed. "Uh, yeah, I'll be the perfect patient." He ignored Sam covering her smile with her hand.

"Good," said Jennifer, a little too brightly. "I'll expect nothing less."

"How long are we talking, Doc?" asked John, beginning to worry about how long he would be out of action.

"I'd prefer not to start making predictions this early," said the young doctor, giving John what he interpreted as a sad smile. That probably meant it was too depressing to bring up right now. John sighed and let himself relax back into the bed. His head was beginning to pound and he could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his face.

"What about the enzyme? I heard you say something about withdrawal." John figured as long as he was getting bad news, he might as well get it all out of the way. His good hand automatically went to his chest and found a square bandage taped over the feeding site.

"You said he really didn't have time to actually feed, right?" asked Rodney.

"Yes, that's right. It doesn't look like he took any years."

"He wasn't on me for long," said John, letting his hand drop back to his side. "Ronon knocked him off almost as soon as he started." _Thank goodness. _John shuddered.

"That's what Ronon told us," said Jennifer. "He did have time to inject enzyme, though, as I'm sure you're aware." John nodded when she paused. "You didn't have the massive dose Rodney had, but it was enough that your system is looking for more. Since you've been exposed to the enzyme before, it'll be worse than if it was the first, but not as bad as what the others went through after Ford kidnapped you guys."

"Bottom line?" asked John, because that was what he had really wanted.

"You're probably feeling pretty crappy right now. That's a combination of exhaustion, the infection, your injuries, and the enzyme. You'll probably feel worse before you feel better, but we're talking a few days, a week at the outside. Should be more of the same: weakness, lethargy, headache, muscle and body aches, possibly some nausea."

"So like the flu on steroids," said John.

Jennifer shrugged. "More or less."

"Better than being dead," said Ronon from his bed.

"Yeah, you got that right," admitted John.

"I am just thankful you are both back with us and safe," said Teyla. "We were very worried."

"Just so you know, we wanted to come for you," said Rodney. "Sam wouldn't let us."

Sam rolled her eyes and John felt his mouth pull into a smile. "We know. We knew you wouldn't be able to come with the Wraith all over the place. You did the right thing." John met Sam's eyes and made sure she knew he meant it. She looked uncertain for a moment and then nodded once.

"How's your leg, Rodney?" John asked, trying to deflect the conversation.

"Quite painful actually," said the scientist, looking down at the injured appendage. "They had to surgically remove the arrow and repair the horrendous damage it caused. I'll probably in physical therapy with you, you know. I had muscle damage too."

"Rodney's going to be fine," said Jennifer, flashing her _I'm trying to be patient _look. "I think that's enough for now. Ronon and the colonel need their rest, so I want everyone out for now. You can come back later to check on them."

There was a few groans followed by a myriad of goodbyes and then Jennifer basically tucked them in and left. John could feel sleep creeping up on him, but he had something to say first. Using the last of his energy, he turned his head to look at Ronon and found the man watching him. "Hey. Just wanted to say thank you."

Ronon frowned a little. "For what?"

"For getting me out of there alive."

Ronon snorted and waved his hand through the air. "It took us both. You're pretty scary when you're wired on enzyme."

John thinned his lips in a grimace. "Yeah, I don't really remember much of that. Just bits and pieces. Mostly I remember feeling like my skin was crawling off my body and . . . " He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Like you did when you were turning into a bug?"

"Yeah," John said quietly. "The energy was incredible, but it somehow just felt . . . wrong, like it wasn't mine."

"I know," Ronon said, meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you do." John was feeling very lucky that Ford had decided to leave him out of the enzyme club.

"The problem is that after a while, it doesn't feel wrong anymore. It feels very right, like you can't live without it." Ronon rolled his head to look up at the ceiling. "The bad part is that the craving never really goes away. You just have sense enough to know how bad it can be, so you stay away from it."

"I was never able to get Ford away from it long enough to see that," said John, bringing up a mental image of the young lieutenant after his encounter with the Wraith. He'd failed Ford, more than once.

"You can't help Ford. If he's alive, he's too far gone."

John felt his stomach tighten and his jaws clench together. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. And so do you."

There was nothing to say to that, because he knew Ronon was right. Ford was beyond saving, but no way could he stop trying. He still felt responsible for the kid, probably always would. He couldn't help remembering the fresh faced lieutenant that had seemed to idolize him, ready to do anything he'd asked.

"You didn't do this to him. You aren't responsible."

"I know." Too bad knowing you weren't responsible for something didn't lessen the guilt of feeling like you were responsible. John found himself wishing they would have killed a few more Wraith.

oOo

Ronon watched Sheppard thrash around, twisting the sheets around his torso and tangling his IV line around his arm, which made the Satedan appreciate the loss of his own IV the day before. Grunting with discomfort, the colonel sat up and began trying to straighten things out when a nurse came to his rescue.

"Colonel, you've gotten tangled again," she commented as she began to straighten the IV line. Sheppard quit trying to help and settled for wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Thanks, Amy," Sheppard muttered. Amy nodded as she fixed his sheets and helped him get settled back against the pillows.

"You've got to stop fiddling with your nasal cannula," she mildly scolded, adjusting the tubing beneath his nose.

"Itches," he complained, groaning as he shifted in bed.

Once she was satisfied, she stood back to study the colonel. "I know you feel really bad. I just wish there was more we could do. Would you like some water?"

"Yeah." Sheppard's talking was limited to short and to the point lately. Amy poured some water in a cup and stuck a straw in it.

"Just a few sips," she cautioned.

"Don't want you to be wearing it again," he muttered before taking the straw between his lips. The nausea came and went, but Sheppard had lost a couple of rounds with it.

"I told you not to worry about that. It happens. I don't hear you complaining when your men bleed on you," Amy quipped.

Ronon had to admit that Beckett had a good staff. They were always trying to make their patients feel at ease, no matter what they got splattered with. He had to smile when he remembered how opposite the response of McKay had been when John had begun relieving his stomach of its contents the night before.

"What are grinning at, Chewie?"

Ronon glanced over to see Sheppard looking at him through heavy lidded eyes as Amy wiped his face with a damp cloth. "Just remembering McKay's reaction last night. He really does scream like a girl." He was inwardly glad to see the small smile that twitched the corner of Sheppard's mouth.

Trading her washcloth for a thermometer, Amy snorted. "I think I take offense to that. I'm a girl and I don't sound like that." She stuck the instrument in Sheppard's ear, making the man groan.

"I'd like to use that ear again."

"Don't you get sassy with me," she said, scrutinizing the machine when it beeped.

"How'm I doin'?" Sheppard asked.

"You have a fever," she responded as she recorded the results.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "And you think _I'm_ sassy?"

Amy smiled and nodded. "I do. Now be still and let me finish."

Sheppard was compliant as the nurse finished her scheduled check and then went about making sure he was tucked in. "You need anything else?" she asked.

"I'm good. Thanks for the help earlier. I don't mean to get all tangled up, I just can't seem to get comfortable."

"I know," she said. "Try to get some rest." Pointing at Ronon, Amy backed away from the bed. "I'll be right back to check on you, so don't go anywhere."

They watched her leave and then Ronon sighed before facing Sheppard. "Sorry about what I said about Ford."

John shrugged his good shoulder. "No, don't be. It was true."

"I know, but it probably wasn't a good time to say it."

Sheppard chuckled. "There's never going to be a good time to say it. It's fine. I like that I never have to wonder what's going on in your head, you just say what you think."

"Easier that way. I hate people who lie and sugar-coat things." Ronon had a hard time understanding the tendency of Earth people to pussyfoot around the truth. It was annoying.

"Yeah, I tend to agree with you on that one. Hey, I never asked. What happened to our Wraith worshipping community?"

"Carter said they are all dead. The Wraith are not forgiving when you don't deliver what was promised," Ronon said without emotion.

John had to admit that he wasn't particularly upset over the news. Anyone stupid enough to think they could bargain with the Wraith were going to end up dead eventually.

Amy returned with Keller in tow. While the nurse went about checking up on Ronon, Jennifer got out her stethoscope. "Let's see how your lungs are sounding, colonel." After listening at John's chest, she had him sit forward so she could run the instrument around his back. "Sounding better today," she commented as she looped the stethoscope around her neck and John leaned back against the pillows. "You're fever doesn't seem to be going anywhere though," she frowned, looking down at his chart. "How are you feeling?"

John shrugged his good shoulder. "Hot, achy, like I went ten rounds with Ronon."

"Flu on steroids?" she asked with a smirk.

"Exactly," he said, giving her a small smile. "Sometimes I hate it when I'm right."

"Your lungs are actually starting to clear up a little, but everything else seems to be on hold right now. At least you don't seem to be getting worse. Give it another day or two and things should turn around."

John sighed. "Don't have much choice."

"Nope," Jennifer said lightly. "I think I'll up your antipyretics to see if we can't get your fever down a bit more. Any nausea today?"

John frowned, his hand automatically going to his stomach. "Not really nausea, just a little unsettled. Better than last night."

"Good, just let someone know if that changes. Pain level?" Jennifer narrowed her eyes in warning. "And I want the truth."

John grinned sheepishly. "Not bad, but the arm is starting to pick up a little."

"Probably because it's almost time for next dose of meds. Anything else?"

"Nope, just can't get comfortable, but then you already knew that," he said, glancing at Amy, who placed her hands on her hips.

"Hey, it's my job to tattle. You know that." With a quick wink, she turned back to Ronon, removing the blood pressure cuff from his arm. "Looks good, Ronon."

"Does that mean I'm getting out of here?" Ronon asked.

"That would be up to me," said Jennifer. "I'll be over to check you next." She turned back to John. "Just take it easy, colonel, and I'll send Amy after your meds while I check the impatient guy in the next bed."

"Don't be too hard on him, Doc," John said. "He kept me alive and moving on that planet. I'd have been Wraith food if not for him."

"Well, I'll just have to take extra good care of Specialist Dex, then," Jennifer said as she moved toward Ronon. She exchanged charts with Amy. "Can you take care of getting Colonel Sheppard's meds while I see if Ronon is ready to go?"

"Absolutely," Amy said, giving the two patients a nod as she left.

Jennifer studied Ronon's chart for a moment. "Okay, this all looks good. I need to check those ribs and your lungs. If everything looks good, you can sleep in your own bed tonight." She spent the next several minutes probing and asking questions about Ronon's ribs and back. Sheppard kept close watch on the situation, turning away only to take the cup of pills Amy brought to him.

"How does he look, Doc?" asked John.

"He looks pretty good, actually." Jennifer stopped open-mouthed as if she realized what she said and then shook her head, her face turning red. "I . . . uh, I mean his condition is quite improved. If you agree to take it easy for a few days, which means no sparring, running, heavy lifting . . . or anything else strenuous that I haven't mentioned, I can release you. I'll get you some muscle relaxers to take for your back and some Tylenol for your ribs. Let me round up what you need and then I'll explain what to watch for and how to take the meds. Wait here." Jennifer waited until Ronon agreed before leaving.

"Looks like you're getting sprung," John said. He looked almost sad that he was losing his roommate. Ronon grinned as he swung his legs over to hang off the bed.

"Cheer up, Sheppard. It won't be long and you'll be out too."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Congratulations, Chewie. Ignore me, I'm just jealous . . . and feverish." He kicked the sheet down to his knees. "And hot."

Ronon grinned as he swung his legs around in anticipation of his release. "Hey, at least you don't scream like a girl." When Sheppard laughed, he joined in.

oOo

"So, how 'bout it Doc? Early release?" John flashed a lopsided grin and waggled his eyebrows. After nine days in the infirmary, he was more than ready to leave.

Jennifer stared at him a moment and then rolled her eyes. "We've had this discussion, several times today actually. I want you fever free for 24 hours before I release you and that will be at 9:07 in the morning. I think I'm going to start adding an extra hour for each time you ask to get out earlier. Finish your dinner, colonel."

Ronon walked up as Jennifer strolled back to her office. "Did you just get threatened with detention?"

Scowling, John stared at Ronon. "What do know about detention?" Then he quickly shook his head. "Never mind, don't want to know." He pushed the rolling table away from the bed and settled back against the pillows to watch Ronon pick at his tray.

"You done with this?"

With a grim smile, John nodded. "Yeah, I'm done. Help yourself."

Breaking into a broad smile, Ronon scooped up the last few fries, that John knew had to be cold by now, and shoved them all in his mouth. He watched the Satedan lick the greasy salt from his fingers and plop down in the chair beside the bed. Their eyes met and the Satedan shifted in the chair.

"What? You said you didn't want them."

John looked blank for a moment before the meaning of Ronon's words hit him. "Oh, yeah, no, that's fine. I mean I didn't want them . . . the fries, that is."

"You sound like McKay."

Ronon never did cut him any slack. John rubbed the back of his neck. "That was uncalled for," he said, trying to look insulted. Ronon chuckled and then leaned the chair back to balance on two legs. "Hey, I've been thinking."

"McKay says that's dangerous," Ronon said as he picked at his teeth.

"What's with all the McKay references tonight?" John asked.

Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon let the chair back down to the floor. "You've been in here. I've been bored."

Sighing, John shook his head. "Anyway, I was thinking about the planet and how . . . intense things were when we were being hunted by the Wraith. I guess . . . I just wondered . . . all those years as a runner . . ." John wanted to slap himself just to see if the words would finally come out.

Ronon's expression sobered and he sat there a moment before answering John's faltering question. "It was hard sometimes. I got used to it."

John ran his good hand through his hair. "I never really realized before, how hard it would be to have them looking for you every minute, to have to keep running. How . . . How did you do it for so long?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon leaned the chair back again, this time bouncing it up and down. "You just keep ahead of them, like we did. You sleep wherever you can, in caves or bushes, sometimes out in the open. You keep away from people so you don't get them killed."

"Sounds lonely," John said, trying to imagine seven years without any real human contact. He wasn't good with close interpersonal relationships, but even he couldn't imagine being that alone.

"Was at first. Got used to it," Ronon said.

"So, having someone tagging along. Was that better or just more trouble?" John asked, well aware that he'd been dead weight slowing them down most of the time.

Ronon stopped bouncing and looked at him for the first time since the topic had been broached. "Both. It was . . . nice to have someone to talk to, but kept me worried about you." A bit of a smile crept in as Ronon looked at John. "It would have been better if you'd been able to pull your own weight."

Relieved that he hadn't upset the big man with his questions, John grinned. "Gee, thanks Chewie. I'll try harder next time."

"Try harder to do what?" asked Rodney as he and Teyla each grabbed a chair and placed them near the bed.

"Keep out of trouble," John said, exchanging a look with Ronon that slipped past the others.

"You are looking well, John," said Teyla with a smile.

"I feel pretty good, too," replied the colonel. "I should get out of here in the morning. Then I just have weeks of physical therapy to look forward to."

"Better than being Wraith chow," said Ronon.

John mouthed "Wraith chow" to Rodney, who shrugged his shoulders in ignorance. It was weird, the stuff their Pegasus friends had picked up over the years.

"Well, I've already started physical therapy for my leg and let me tell you, it's no picnic. That Drybird guy will work you to death."

Teyla let out a slow breath before looking at Rodney. "The physical therapist's name is Drubard, Jason Drubard."

"Right, what she said," Rodney said, waving one hand her direction. "Anyway, he's a slave driver. My leg aches for hours after he's done."

"Your limp is getting better, though," commented John. He hadn't really noticed any difference, but he was entertaining himself by getting a rise out of Rodney.

"Really? You think so?" the scientist asked, his eyes widening.

Teyla must have realized what he was doing from the glare she was sending his way. John put on his most innocent smile. "Yes, I do."

"Humph," Rodney grunted.

"So, what have you guys been up to the last few days?" asked John. "Anything exciting?"

"Just trying to stay out of trouble for a change," said Rodney.

John thinned his lips in a grim smile. "Yeah, that was the plan with the Balterians, to stay out of trouble. You see how well that turned out."

"Ah, yes, best laid plans of mice and men . . . or in this case, lieutenant colonels," mumbled Rodney.

"Schemes," John corrected.

"What?" asked Rodney.

"The best laid schemes of mice and men  
Go often askew,  
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,  
For promised joy."

Rodney gaped at him.

"Okay, that's not the original, it's the English translation," John admitted. "But things definitely went askew."

Rodney shook his head and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "They usually do." They sat in silence for a few moments before Ronon scratched his head and looked at Rodney, then John.

"What's a scew?"

THE END

The "best laid schemes" reference was from _To a Mouse_ by Robert Burns.


End file.
